


untitled

by gavorn



Category: Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gavorn/pseuds/gavorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[[little change of pace, then going back to Egotron. Dr Horrible's Sing Along Blog, everyone. If you haven't watched it, go do so.]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled

They told him it was impossible.  
They said that of a lot of things, though.  
And those had all been done, long ago, and why wasn't this any different?  
What was the difference?  
\--  
If you had asked someone fifty or a hundred years ago if they could ever dream of the technology that was available today, they would tell you it could never be done.

If you asked someone fifty or a hundred years from now, who's to say it would be so out of the ordinary? So wrong?  
Who's to say there wasn't a technological breakthrough right around the corner from Dr Horrible himself?  
\--

Of course, it would take materials, and lots of time.  
But he was confident that if he had the right circumstances-oh, like, say, someone with chest wounds and blood loss- it would work.  
It would, he was sure.  
\--

Moist had been fired a few weeks into the project for saying he was worried and he didn't think it would ever work.  
A genius can't be around doubting fools if he's expected to produce a masterpiece, can he?  
There wasn't any reason not to have his workplace as efficient as possible, without some slimy, whining fool who dropped things every time he tried to pick them up.  
\--  
And he had the best motivation he could think of, too, didn't he?  
Not money or power or "evilness", like he told the ELE when he submitted his project grant request.  
He was doing it for love.  
And besides, after being saved she would love him, wouldn't she? Not that douche Captain Hammer?  
What's more romantic than saving your life?  
And sure, maybe it had been kinda his fault [no, it was all Captain Hammer, what a bad, awful man, who didn't deserve anything less than the worst punishment available]  
\--  
Build the machine, save the girl, get the girl, rule the world. That was the plan, and it was going to work [things always worked when you did them for True Love, like what they had, at least according to books]  
Failure wasn't an option.  
His plan was foolproof, perfect. Incapable of failure.  
There was a little voice nagging in the back of his mind, telling him he had better stop, better find something else because this was pushing him to the brink of something even he didn't understand  
\--  
He hadn't blogged in months, he noticed. Not since the couple stray posts after induction into the ELE. There just hadn't been time.  
He still got a comment every few weeks from some viewer. They were asking things like "How's the ELE?" and "How come we haven't seen any new heists in the newspapers?"  
He ignored them.  
Once he finished the machine it would be the biggest thing since anything, and he would never have to suffer again.  
And he would be so much more important in the League, so much better than stupid Dead Bowie, who thought he was so much better just because he had been around longer and killed some people.  
Maybe killing got you points among the League members, but Bad Horse wouldn't be impressed by stupid random killing sprees. He would prefer more careful, elegant, creative stuff. Like, oh, say..  
Bringing someone back from the dead.  
\--  
He wouldn't say she was dead, though. Sleeping. She was sleeping for a long time and he just had to wake her up, because thinking of her as dead scared him so much his hands shook and he couldn't work on the machine.  
She was sleeping.  
\--  
And then the day finally arrived, when it was completed, and the shiny platinum tank stood there in the lab in all of its glory.  
It had been pretty easy to get her from the cemetery [he hadn't let them burn her. That was too impossible even by his standards.] Her body was sealed into the tank, the switches were flipped, the wires were connected and there was nothing left to do but wait.  
He stood there, pacing back and forth, unable to stay still.  
He checked his watch again.  
It had been eight hours.  
Just as planned.  
Now or never.  
\--  
He walked to the tank. He opened the tank. She lay there, perfect, just as if she really had just fallen asleep there.  
He peeked under the scrap of fabric he had covered her with [she was a lady, he didn't care if she was sleeping, it would just be wrong to see her like that] and saw the big, ugly stitches on her stomach were gone; replaced by thin, barely visible scars.  
She was so beautiful he wanted to cry.  
She stirred a little, and he held his breath.  
Her eyes opened.  
"Penny?"


End file.
